The Therapy Chronicles
by sansone
Summary: AU: what if Gibbs and Kate never met? What if the FBI had worked that case in Yankee White and team!Gibbs never got on board Air Force One? Now, after the events in Hiatus, Abby encourages Gibbs to go into therapy and to her surprise, he does - and he meets someone who might be able to help.


_AN: _Apparently lack of sleep is making me look at unfinished work... I wrote this a while back, but I'm hoping posting the first chapter will help me write MOAR (because I do have a clear idea of where this is going/how I am going to develop it). Hope someone enjoys reading ~

* * *

><p>He is one of the quiet ones, a tough nut to crack, Kate thinks as she eyes her new patient, seated opposite her in a black armchair, his arms crossed over his chest. He hasn't said much since the start of their session; they only had time for short introductions before The Silence descended upon them (and is now threatening to become the status quo). But Kate <em>knows<em> quiet, has expected it even because she _is _a total stranger and he has no reason to trust her. _Yet. _In fact, he looks almost resigned to being here. Because it's apparent it's not his idea: if it were, he would have been talking by now. Kate can work with that. She's worked with that. As long as it's not anger, they'll be fine.

He looks grumpy, – aloof, too – but Kate can't help but notice the piercing blue eyes and the fleeting smirk he gave her a few times. In his early 50s, Agent Gibbs – or _just Gibbs _as he insisted she call him – is actually kind of gorgeous, _maybe. _And this is strictly an impartial observation, scribbled down on the lined pages of her mind's records. He works at NCIS, a federal agency, which is nothing like CSI she is told – only if you are dyslexic. It takes all she's got not to _Yes, sir _him before they've even started their session because the man screams of _boss _and authority and undisputed, all-encompassing control.

"Coffee?" Kate asks instead, breaking the silence. If she waited for him to start talking, she'd wait forever and she'd much rather kick start her system with a little caffeine. She's hardly ever got patients at 7:30am, but Gibbs here is apparently an early riser.

"How'd you know?" he asks.

Kate has to rewind back and think. _How do I know...how do I know what? Oh. _Coffee.

She straightens up and smooths down the skirt of her dress. "_Well. _For starters, I'm pretty sure that's a coffee stain off to the side of your collar. And that thing you do – that tapping on the floor thing – a green tea aficionado just wouldn't..."

One corner of his mouth lifts into what surely looks like a half-smile. He cocks his head to the side. "Alright," he says, a soft gleam in his eyes. "I'll take a cup of coffee."

Kate high-fives herself for striking a chord with him, though it's unlikely that'll be his first cup for the day. She doesn't have to ask. He instructs her – no milk, no sugar, _no nothing. _"Strong's better," he tells her and she winces at the thought of drinking her coffee this black. Then _Yes, sir-_s him despite herself and it propels a smirk to his infuriatingly quiet lips.

When she returns, she notices he's a bit more relaxed, his arms outstretched on the chair's armrests, and he nods his thanks when she hands him a cup. She cradles her own close to her chest. With milk and sweetener, _thank you very much._ Kate watches him take a large gulp from the poison he calls coffee without so much as flinching.

"So. You were in an accident, Agent Gibbs?" she asks, sipping from her own cup.

"Explosion," he corrects, taking another big gulp and she's afraid that was it for the coffee. Kate would get him another one, but she doesn't want to feed his apparent addiction.

"Alright, explosion. Could you tell me more about it, Age-, I mean, Gibbs?"

When he smiles, when he raises an eyebrow, she's sure she's got him; like, she's opened the gates to the flood that is Gibbs' venting, but no such luck. He is as monosyllabic as he's been so far.

"Nope."

Okay then. "And is there anything you'd like to talk about, Gibbs?"

He pauses just a second. "You have lovely eyes, you know that – Kate?" He is looking at her, but it's almost like he is looking _past _her, into the past and into another life.

"Gibbs," she says his name on an exhale, but it comes across as a sigh. On instinct, she reaches one hand to touch his forearm, bites her lip when he pulls back, recoiling from the contact – much like a wounded animal. "Why are you here, Agent Gibbs?" she asks, regretting the question almost immediately as she sees his expression close off. But she needs to know. She needs _him _to know he should know why he's here.

"Abby," he whispers, and she can barely make out the name, but it's the first time he's speaking the truth and his response is not another deflection. And that's progress.

But before Kate can ask any follow-ups, before she can ask who Abby is – a friend, a daughter, his wife? – Gibbs' phone is ringing and he is leaving the room. _Damn._

* * *

><p>After his return, it seems the momentum they had – or the one she thought they had – is now lost. Gibbs embraces monosyllabic words, <em>nope-s <em>and _good-_s and _yes_-s, like old friends while Kate goes back to pulling teeth to get even those simple responses. It's not working out and by the end of their session, Kate is frustrated and Gibbs' eyes are ablaze with discontent or what she'd otherwise call despair, but this is not a man who gives up easily, if at all, she figures. And there's hope in that, right?

"Until next time, Gibbs," she says, his small eye roll not escaping her notice. For a moment she wonders when that next time will be, _if _there will be a next time.

Gibbs just sighs, tips his imaginary hat to her and leaves.


End file.
